The Rockiest Path
by LoveTheCumberBatch
Summary: Delve into both the past and present of Miss Mona Cartwell, revealing a prophecy that no one can stop. When the rockiest path seems too much to handle, who will she turn to?
1. Preparations

**Disclaimer:****Hogwarts**** and**** everything ****Harry ****Potter ****doesn't**** belong ****to ****me.**** But ****I**** can ****say**** that**** part**** of**** me**** will**** always ****call**** Hogwarts ****my**** home.**

**The**** Rockiest**** Paths**

**Chapter****1-Preparations**

Her eyes stared unfathomably at the crawling spiders in the glass jar, wishing for a way out. She hardly bothered to hide her gloomy feelings anymore, but no one seemed to notice her anyway. Today there was no makeup on her eyes or jewelry that would usually set her apart from the crowd she had grown accustomed to being part of. In a quiet, stuffy house as her father's she felt no reason to bring attention to herself.

"When can I go home and see Mum?" she asked her father blankly. He stood over her as she leaned against the window pane. She could feel the afternoon sun pulsing against her bare skin.

"I thought I already answered that question."

"Not fully I don't think."

"Why would you want to go back? What's in America that isn't here in your home country?" He crossed his arms against his chest, his wand sticking up from the crook of his elbow.

She huffed.

"See, exactly! This is your home. Treat it like it." He uncrossed his arms and pointed with his wand at the jar of spiders. "Again, then."

"Dad, really?" she groaned.

"You're improving so quickly, Mona. Once more so I know the last few times weren't flukes."

She shifted uneasily from the sill and pulled her wand out. It was a light brown wood, a hardy vinewood. The core was of kelpie hair and had a handle that moved along with the curves of her hand. She could remember distinctly the look on Ollivander's face when she picked up the wand five years before. She remembered him saying kelpie hair was generally bad luck.

"You need a firmer grip on your wand before you do anything, young lady," her father interrupted. He twirled his own wand between the spaces in his fingers routinely. It had become such an old ritual now.

With her wand, Mona lifted a single spider out of the jar, setting it onto the table. Her head pounded. She really didn't like doing this, but with her father's piercing eyes bearing down upon her, she steadied her wand and held her tongue.

_"__Crucio!__"_

Instead of shuffling around in a circle, the spider flew onto its back and writhed. Its miniscule mouth opened and closed with whispered screams. All eight legs flailed painfully.

"Again, dearest."

"Dad, you said-"

"Again!" he barked sharply.

Her pulse burned loudly in her ears. Just looking at the spider hurt her. The fine point of the wand moved back to the spider. _"__Crucio!__"_

By now the other spiders were beginning to scramble aimlessly in the jar, terrified. Seeing their companion of five minutes near death was horrifying. At last, with a shriveled cry the spider's legs curled to its chest and did not move.

Mona's father sighed, almost as if he cared. "That will do for today, love. It's just past noon. I'd say that Trilly has lunch waiting for us. Mona, what is it?" He stepped toward his daughter, using the inch of height he held over her to loom. "Are you upset?"

She was back at the window sill, staring down at her hands. "Why do I have to learn all this? Dad, I don't want to be a bad person." She looked to her father pleadingly.

The chiseled stone grey of his eyes softened. "I'm preparing you dearest. That's all. I'm teaching you how to defend yourself." He touched her cheek. "I'm sorry if I yell at you. I'm trying to help you."

It took Mona years to decipher this riddle. She had never been good at figuring them out in the first place, though. With the dark cloud of Lord Voldemort hanging over the wizarding world, it seemed more like she was being 'prepared' to join him than defend herself, but at the moment she hadn't thought that far ahead. Mona instead nodded in understanding as expected from a dark wizard's daughter.

"They're Muggles. You know my opinion on their type."

"I told you about Francis. He's a wizard."

An eyebrow raised on her father's face. "I've heard nothing of him."

"I should invite him over."

Both eyebrows rose. "Here? Why would I ever let someone I've never met come here? You have your brother; he's good company."

"Mason's always away. I never get to see him anymore," Mona disagreed. "Please, Da. He's polite, and good natured. He won't cause any trouble."

He spun the fabric bookmark around his finger pensively. Mona's father looked to be a polite, good natured man himself. His hair was a deep black, his sideburns speckled with the occasional white. His eyes were always bright with light circles drawn around them. Never had she seen him without his draping charcoal robes or his beautiful wand. Being a wizard was something he obviously prized above all other intangibles.

"Use my owl to ask permission from his family. I won't make any promises yet, though," he added quickly when he saw her face light up so suddenly. He looked sullen from giving in.

"I already did," she beamed. "His aunt has a portkey he can use. Can he come now?"

He slouched in the chair he sat in, bending his thin body, and raised his hands in mock defeat. "Tell Franny to prepare another plate for dinner."

Mona's smile glowed. She knew her father wasn't one for gratitude, so by will she had to restrain herself. "_Go__raibh__mile__maith__agat*,_Thanks, Da." Where she would have wanted to wrap her father into a hug, she only nodded in recognition. It was just as much emotion as he expected from his second oldest child.

Her fingers twisted addictively to reach the slender ring on her forefinger. She wasn't sure if it was on the proper hand. Allowing her eyes to wander, she tried to remember her mother's hands to see which hand always wore the golden band.

"Mona?"

She pulled out of her daze. It had been years since she had seen her mother. By sheer luck she could still remember the little details about her mum, like her favorite colors and the way she wore her hair. But her mother's voice seemed as distant as the radio broadcaster in the next room. Mona met eyes with the white collared priest across from her.

"Just daydreaming, Francis," she excused herself. "Sorry. You were saying?"

His high forehead creased, his glasses rising onto his relatively straight nose. "This is why I'm worried. This is the first time in months that you've owled me. I didn't know at all where you were." He jabbed his finger forcefully onto the table. "How can you tell me not to worry?"

She felt ashamed that she hadn't been owling her friend as much as she used to and she showed it. He was such a good friend to her; he hardly deserved her sloth behavior. It hardly mattered to her though, and she knew it.

Francis could see that he would have to try persuading her from another angle. He ran a hand across his face, smoothing away the creases. He inwardly asked his creator for patience.

"Mona. Mona, do you remember when I spent the summer at your dad's house?" Francis waited for her to look back at him. When she did, he smiled very softly. "You said that your dad was preparing you for something, right?" He hesitated, not fully sure if this was the moment he had been waiting for.

She bristled. "Yes."

"Do you remember what I said? What I promised?"

"Of course," she nodded, "I wouldn't forget."

The priest's watery eyes shimmered blue. "I'm still your best mate. And I'll always be. It's been over a decade though, Mona. And there isn't You-Know-Who or your dad looming over either." He tried loosening the tension with a sigh. "You've gotta give me a break. Let me know how I can help you."

"But it's not that!" The beginnings of tears shown in the red and green lights. "That isn't it," said thickly.

"What is it then, Mona?" He hated seeing her cry. It made his heart pound in agony and his stomach churn. "Shed a little light for a brother."

With red rimmed eyes and a sob caught in her throat, Mona Cartwell looked to the priest and confessed, "I think I'm in love, Francis."

"Why's your dad always watching me?" A slender young wizard asked quizzically.

"It's his way of testing you, I think," Mona replied, picking at a pear tree branch. On the whole ten acre estate where Mona lived there wasn't a grander place than the orchard. Each year the apple trees were thicker and the pears were always plumper than those of the year before. The trees were almost tall enough now that she could stand up straight when she walked under them. Underneath the foliage she felt safer than inside the house where she was under the watchful eye of her father. To her, the orchard was a reclusive safe haven.

The branch snapped between her fingers. "You wanta play exploding snap again?"

"Nah. We played that all day. Catch." A stray apple flew into the air towards Mona.

"Merlin, Francis!" She caught the apple, but the playful glare she sent him set him into peal of light-hearted chuckles. Mona blushed under her summer freckles. Francis was overall a good looking wizard. He was freshly seventeen, his golden hair sunbleached into a dusty blonde with an oval face that was more sunburnt than tan. Along with his pale blue eyes and grinning face, he was irrevocably a ham for her attention.

They crashed simultaneously into the tall grasses, staring up through the lush leaves and up to the glistening sun. Mona bit into her apple.

"Why'd your dad make such a big deal about me coming over? You live, like, in the middle of nowhere," Francis questioned. His tawny head fell back onto his folded arms, his eyes following every movement of the trees.

"Dad doesn't usually let nonfamily members come over. He's pretty protective of the estate. There are a shitload of defensive spells and Muggle repelling spells around the whole place." She was about to go into more detail, but Francis interrupted.

"Don't swear. It sounds so weird when you do."

She took a fierce bite from her apple. "What's so wrong with me swearing? You and your stupid American accent."

"Stuck up European."

"Hog face."

"Shit brain."

"Elf lover."

"Mudblood," he snickered, tumbling over to avoid her swinging fist. Mona knew that he meant it as a joke and she found no harm in the name. She was a pureblood and had grown up with the mentality that being a Mudblood was the equivalent of a stray dog, something that was obviously below her. Somehow, though, it felt like a blow below the belt.

"Bloody git. That's not even funny."

"Sure it is. You laughed," Francis said with a smile. When she didn't immediately smile back, he became worried. "Hey, you know I was just joshing ya."

"Yeah, I know," Mona nodded back to him, pulling a smile up. She lay back into the grass with a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. "I'm gonna be seventeen in two months."

"It's not as much fun as you'd think it'd be," Francis shrugged. "All I got was a rat's nest of dung bombs and a boot out of the house. Doubt you'd have to really worry about that though with a dad like yours. He's rich."

Mona thought back for a moment on the many stories Francis had told her of his struggling family of seven. Most were squibs, or irish twins. It was hard to tell which were which. All were scrawny and droopy eyed. Francis seemed to be the odd ball of the bunch.

"I don't care how many Galleons Dad has tucked in Gringotts. I hate him." This was the first time that Mona had really been blunt with her best friend. She had suggested before that her relationship with her father was a rocky one, but had never brought it out in the open.

"That sounds kindof harsh," Francis said cautiously. "You hate him? What for?"

"He…" She tried to think of a way to explain it vaguely. "He's making me do something I don't want to do. He won't tell me what, though. Says he's 'preparing me'." Mona tried to lay lower in the grass, knowing Francis's schemes of truth-hunting all too well.

"Preparing you? " He shook his head. "Sounds like a crocka shit to me. What's there to prepare for? You're the smartest witch I know," he complimented, nudging her arm.

Taking no heed for it, she mumbled, "I'm scared to find out." She already had what in mind, but she knew that voicing her theory could be dangerous. Her toes twisted around each other aimlessly.

"Hey," Francis snapped, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. Mona was taken off guard. "Whatever it is you're freaking out about, you know it's not worth it. Everything's fine."

"No it isn't! You-Know-Who's just waiting for his chance to coup Fudge out of office and Death Eaters are everywhere. Everything's on the brink of…insanity! Anarchy! The only reason I even stay here with the git is so I don't get killed or recruited or whatever the fuck they do to you." She shook his hand away and sat up.

After Francis was sure she had finished venting, he sat up. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what? Get upset?"

"Yeah. You bottle it all up til the last possible second, then boom! You just don't get upset, you explode. Sure the Ministry's not looking its best and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is scaring the heebie-jeebies out of people, but come on! We're livin' our dreams, right? Be a little happy?" Francis softened while she wiped tears from her eyes. "Aw, com'on. What's gettin you so upset?"

Mona told him how scared she was. She was scared to leave home. She was scared of what would happen if she didn't. Scared of her father. Scared of Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters. "They kill people. Innocent people that haven't even heard that bastard's name."

"What about this whole thing of preparing you? Is that it, too?" He held onto both of her hands. A sort of cool smile glinted on his lips when he saw the look in her eyes. "That's it isn't it?

She sniffled a quiet, "Shut up."

"Mona, stop burying it. Tell me! What's the slimy prat doing? I'll knock his head straight." It was well known back in small town Thimble, Wisconsin that Francis was a boxing champion.

She buried her face in her hands. "I can't Francis. I can't."

It tore at him how sad she was. "A clue? I'll play twenty questions for the rest of the summer." She gave a short laugh at his attempts. "Please? How about Veritaserum? Would that do the trick?" She didn't answer.

"Hey, com'ere." He peeled her hands away from her eyes gently. Her eyes met his. "Hear me out at least. I'm always gonna be your best mate. You can tell me anything. If you wanna tell me five minutes from now or a decade from now, I'm gonna listen. I promise, I promise so sincerely that if you were of age I'd make the Unbreakable Vow right now to you. Alright? Is that enough to bring a smile back?" Francis jeered softly. It was his signature line.

Coyly and bashfully, her smile returned. "Just enough."

"No, it isn't wonderful, because he's not the guy you'd want to fall for." Mona continued wiping her eyes with her sleeve. It was soggy though from the snow outside and did no good. Francis offered his eye glass cleaner. "Thanks."

"Tell me about him. If you like'em he can't be that bad." Relief flooded him hearing this. He had expected the worst, but this wasn't anything compared to what he had thought. Leaning back in the booth's cushions, he relaxed.

"Tall, long black hair, somewhat pallid…Who am I kidding." She was getting frustrated.

"Rate him. One being the worst and ten the best," Francis offered.

Mona stuck her tongue in her cheek, hesitated, then finally said, "Five. And most of that's his character."

"Okay, no help there. What's so bad about him? Should I know him? Have I had a go with him?" Still, at the age of thirty one Francis was pretty handy with his boxing gloves.

"Maybe not had a go, but I'd bet you've heard of him."

"Gimme a name then," Francis said. When she said she'd rather not, he groaned. "You've told me this much already about the guy, you owe me it."

"He was a Death Eater once." Something chilled and fearful wrapped itself around Francis's stomach. A Death Eater? Wasn't she terribly afraid of them? How could she fall in love with one?

"Are you gonna make me guess?" He said, still stunned.

Mona's swollen eyes stared blankly at the back of a man's head, clutching the eye glass cleaner. "Severus," she said very quietly. "Severus Snape." She continued before Francis could say anything. "He's the Potions Master at the school. The Head of the Slytherin House, too."

"Bloody-" He bit his lip before he started swearing. As soon as she said the name, a trigger went off, going back to the Death Eater trials and how Dumbledore had vouched for Snape. "Mona! He's a Death Eater, not a Potions Master. You hate people like him!" Francis whispered as loudly as possible, not wanting to cause a scene.

"He's changed, Francis. He really has."

"I don't buy that pile of dragon dung." He leaned closer, pulling from his pocket a folded Daily Prophet. "Weird things are happening lately, Mona. People are going missing here and there. There are reports of Dark Marks burning. This isn't coincidental." He turned to a page and pointed to it. "Look at the obituary lists."

"You're overreacting, Francis. The Dark Lord is long gone," she said between her teeth.

Francis couldn't see why she had to be so thick headed sometimes, and it frustrated him. "I mean it, I do. My best advice for you is to drop that git before he drags you down with him." He folded the newspaper back into his coat pocket, saying, "If You-Know-Who is really on the comeback then stay clear of his kind. Bad people like him don't change their ways, especially when they get away with it." He looked across to her to make sure she got the message. Her eyes were cast down to the eye glass cleaner in her hands, sad and guilty.

"Come on. Enough of this," he comforted, seeing her downcast look as heartbreak. "Give us a smile." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and with the other held onto Francis's. His white collar dug into his neck as he swallowed. "Sun's coming out and we still have the rest of the day to ourselves. Now that's enough to bring a smile back, right?" With his aging fingers he gave a squeeze to hers much like he did when they were kids.

Finally, after a whole minute of staring downward, Mona raised her eyes. She gave her best fake smile. "Just enough," she whispered as she squeezed his fingers back.

***The**** Irish**** means,****'Thank ****you ****very ****much**.'

**Thank**** you**** so**** much ****for ****reading!**** Please**** rate**** and ****review...Thanks!**


	2. The Black Escape

**Disclaimer:****Everything**** Harry**** Potter**** belongs**** to**** Jo**** Rowling,**** you**** know ****that!**

**Chapter**** 2-****A ****Black**** Escape**

_Mere months before Mona and Francis' get-together…_

It was her second year at Hogwarts. She could still remember very distinctly how her first few weeks in the castle had felt like years. But now it had been a year and she couldn't believe how fast everything went. She had yet to wander through the entire castle, but the places that she had become acquainted with felt like home.

When it came time to return back to the Wizarding School the week before the Hogwarts Express did, Miss Mona Cartwell also found an empty hole in the castle where her good friend had once been, Remus Lupin. It made the homecoming less cheery and made writing lesson plans feel more like a job. After finding Sirius Black cooped up in the Shrieking Shack the end of last year, it had become public knowledge that Remus was a werewolf, forcing him out of the school. Mona hadn't heard from him since he had left Hogwarts, and it made her worry.

It was at dinner her first night back that she heard so much about the upcoming year. "Is it true about the tournament, Minerva?" Professor Sprout asked just before the Headmaster joined them in the Great Hall. Mona wasn't even sure what kind of tournament could be held at the school, and her curiosity budded.

"I'm not at liberty to say, Pomona," the Deputy Headmistress replied, filling her cup with tea.

"What tournament is that?" she piped in.

"Oh, I forget Mona how new you still are. It feels like you've been here longer," Minerva said pleasantly. "It's the Triwizard Tournament. Albus was talking about it last year, but I never thought it would take shape. There hasn't been a Triwizard Tournament in over a hundred years, so if the Headmaster decides on it," she said, sending a mindful look to Pomona, "then it will definitely be a noteworthy year."

Mona smiled genuinely. "Sounds like it."

It wasn't long after that when the Headmaster roamed sprightly into the Hall. Not far behind followed Severus Snape, his hair washed and robes stiff with starch as usual. Her attention moved from Dumbledore to Snape in an instant. In her first year teaching, she had become somewhat friends with the Potions Master. By somewhat meaning they were sociable acquaintances. She was able to read his face from this acquaintance; lines of resentment and annoyance creased his face that showed the tip of the iceberg of an anxiety buried deep. Snape made his way quickly to his seat.

"So good to see all your familiar faces," the Headmaster beamed, leaning over his tall chair. "I trust the journey here was a pleasant one? Wonderful, wonderful. Before we eat, a few announcements." His eyes twinkled. "For all the rumors floating around, let me put them to rest for good. Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament for the first time in one-hundred years." Pomona chirped excitedly. "It has been confirmed by both Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and the Durmstrang Institute of their participation, and the students competing will arrive late October.

"On another note, I have recently hired a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher..." Mona began tuning him out, not out of boredom, but since she had other pendulums hanging over her head to worry about. She thought of Remus's sweet, gentle face, the scorching headlines on the Daily Prophet about the attacks at the Quidditch World Cup. At the beginning of the summer she was certain that this year was going to be a breeze because now she knew how everything was run in the school. Now back in the castle, she still felt like a novice in the expert level school.

Her attention clapped awake when Dumbledore brought his hands together loudly. "Now, let's enjoy our meal!" As his hands parted, the empty plates and bowls filled, along with goblets brimming with pumpkin juice. For the rest of the meal, small talk was made with the professors around Mona. Aurora Sinistra's study of the summer solstice, and Charity Burbage's new obsession with Muggle board games became the night's topics, along with the upcoming tournament.

But all of their talk left a dry, parched feeling in the back of Mona's throat. She listened to their chatter and nodded when she was supposed to politely, laughed a few times even. 'Why did all the good things about Hogwarts have to go and all these batty witches have to stay?' she thought.

An hour and a half passed swiftly until all the staff were heartily full. Chairs were pushed in and dishes vanished, leaving the group to dwindle among themselves and bid goodnight to each other.

Mona had been waiting for this moment. For the first time that year she reminded herself how lucky she was that her quarters were so close to the stairway leading to the dungeons. Striding towards the doors out of the Great Hall, she called out after him.

"Severus?" He turned, his black eyes training onto her.

"Miss Cartwell. A pleasure," he greeted with a straight face.

"I didn't get a chance to say hello at dinner. How was your break?"

"The same. Yours?" They started walking towards the dungeons.

"Very well, in fact. I had a bit of recovering to do the first few weeks, though."

A small smirk blossomed upon his face. "Ah, of course. Everything healed now?"

"My head's as thick as ever," she joked, coaxing a snort out of him. "Too bad he hasn't been caught yet, Sirius Black."

"In time justice will come I believe, but til then," Snape stopped in front of the stairs leading downward, "Good night, Miss Cartwell."

It had taken him months to call her by her first name, and she hated how sparingly he said it. "Yes, good night, Severus." After he began his descent, Mona turned to head towards her chambers as well, her fingers trailing the walls while she thought.

_Late last year…_

Mona had never seen Madame Pomfrey bustle so quickly before. The Hospital Ward was buzzing with professors and students alike, especially a certain group of Gryffindors. To the right of the ward lay a rather distraught Ron Weasley, staring wide-eyed down at his broken leg. On the bed beside him was Hermione Granger, holding a bandage to her head, looking over at the sleeping Harry Potter on the other side of her. To the left of the ward, a groggy Potions Master rubbed his pulsing temples, drinking black coffee by the cup.

"Poppy," Mona grabbed her as she rushed for her bottle of Skele-Gro and box of chocolate. "Poppy, let me help. You can't just let me stand around."

"Oh, don't worry dearie. I've got everything under control," she assured, her face rosy and her squinted smile making her crows feet elongate. Madame Pomfrey passed her desk and fumbled for a clean cup in the cupboard in her office. Mona calmly picked one up from her desk and placed it into one of her counter's hands. The nurse was surprised and stopped to look at her.

"Please, Poppy. Trust me, I know what I'm doing," the Healing Arts Mistress strained. Mona took her hesitation as lack of trust. All she wanted was for the school matron to trust her, let her prove herself. "Let me get Severus on his feet. I'll stay out of your way."

"Mona, dear don't think it that way," Poppy called to her tenderly. "It's just I'm not used to having another pair of hands in the ward with me. You might be used to it, but it's been twenty-seven years since I've been at St. Mungo's. Yes, please look after Severus, that'd help me very much. But please, dear, don't think that you're a nuisance. You aren't; it just takes time to find your place here."

Mona wasn't sure how to answer this. All she found herself doing was giving a nod before leaving the office, which she felt made the whole thing even more awkward for her. But when her eyes came to meet the sallow figure sitting up in the hospital bed, gears began to grind in her head. Any blurry vision? Was he bleeding? Did he have any loss of memory?

"Severus," she said quietly, not wanting the students nearby to overhear. "How are you?" She sat down on the bed adjacent to his.

"Could be better," he grumbled, not meeting her gaze. His cloak hung on the bed frame, his robes in disarray and dirty. He brushed a piece of grass from his knee.

She noticed his obvious grimace. "Headache?"

"Like I said, I could be better. I have brews in the dungeons to get rid of it. I was told to wait here, though, but that was at least fifteen minutes ago." He set his mug on the nightstand next to him. "What are you supposed to be doing?" Severus looked to her.

"Making sure you're alright. What about this cut? How does that feel?" Asking questions was her least favorite chore as a Healer. She would rather fill out every possible piece of paperwork instead of asking all those stupid questions to patients.

"It was just a Stunning Spell, Mona. I'm not deathly ill." He shifted over to make room for her to sit next to him. Her soft fingers delicately ran along his forehead where the gash was. It made a shiver jet up his spine.

"Did you try cleaning this yourself? _Accio_." From the neat little cabinet she aimed her wand at a roll of what looked to be very tangled yarn flew towards her. She caught it with both hands. "Here we go. You'll be good as new before you can say Swedish Short-Snout."

"What is it?" The tangled ball of yarn now resembled what cobwebs would look like if they were rolled around a tube. Mona ripped a small corner off.

"It's Cob's Web. It's like a bandage, but better. Hold still." She pressed the little square just around the corners of the gash. "When our bodies naturally heal, they form clots. Clots are made mainly of platelets and fibrin. The fibrin is like a web, much like this, and the platelets fill the little holes in between. So when I place this on your forehead, millions of little platelets are filling in those holes. But the best part is the skin heals along the web so there's no scar." She let go cautiously, making sure the Cob's Web could stay on its own. "Fascinating, right?"

"Thrilling," he replied, raising his head. "Thank you for the lecture, professor." Severus looked her over with a grateful eye, as if he had just realized her true talent at healing.

"Anytime, professor." She sent the roll back into the cabinet. "Do you want to grab your potion? I'll walk you down there."

"I can manage, don't bother." With all the coffee pulsing in him, you'd have thought he would have sprung up from the bed, but he stood up like a man bent with the worries of the world.

Mona shook her head, standing with him. "Not a chance. I'm coming." The thought of arguing was pointless to Severus, so he grunted and let her lead the way out of the ward.

...

She never was one to stand in the wings of a conversation, but when the Minister of Magic made his grand self into the Hospital Ward, she kept clear of him. Cornelius Fudge was speaking to Severus, promising him a place in the Order of Merlin for the capture of Sirius Black and the safe keeping of Harry Potter. Mona snorted under her breath.

"Is he doing well?" Madam Pomfrey asked, standing next to Mona, wiping her hands with a hand towel.

Mona smiled at her counter. "He's fine. Just had a cut on his head, but I took care of it. He had a headache-"

"-For good reason-"

"So I brought him down to his chambers," Mona finished, crossing her arms and leaning in the doorway of Poppy's office. She no longer felt a need to impress the matron, and her shoulders felt much lighter from it.

"Hmph. He does look much cleaner than the rest of the bunch," the older witch observed. Mona swore she saw Severus's eyes flick momentarily over to them and her cheeks burned.

"How's Potter?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Ah, he should be waking up any moment now, I'm guessing. You know," Madam Pomfrey said, "Some Aurors stopped by earlier asking for me to go check up on Black. I guess he had a nasty knock on the head, too. I've got my hands full right now with these three; why don't you go?"

Mona was stunned. Was this the same witch who wouldn't let her touch a hair on a wounded Quidditch player or barely step foot into the Hospital Ward for most of the whole year? She had barely had a full conversation with the woman, and now she trusted her enough to look after the most dangerous criminal in Wizarding World at the_ moment._

"Excuse me?"

"Bring some Aurors with you and just head over there. I believe they said he's in Filius's office. It's nothing to fuss about." Before she could protest, Poppy was back at work, leaving Mona to figure out what she was going to do.

"Is this the fine witch you were talking about, Severus?" Mona was slightly startled when a hand rested on her shoulder. "Miss Cartwell is it?"

Mona looked directly across her to meet the Minister's eyes levelly. They were the same height. "Yes, sir. A pleasure, Minister." She held her hand out, and he shook it. His hand was sticky in hers and she was glad to let go.

"So you're the Healing Arts Mistress. You have quite the track record, Miss Cartwell! I've heard plenty good of you when I visited St. Mungo's," Fudge complimented. Mona turned pink slightly. "It's good to see Dumbledore bringing young professionals like yourself to teach, and from such a growing field, too," Fudge said. "And this is your first year here at the school? A fascinating place, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes. No doubt. I hope to stay here for awhile," Mona answered honestly. In the back of her mind she was still focusing on Sirius Black. In her experience she had never treated someone like this before. She didn't feel like she could trust the Aurors that would be making sure she wasn't Black's fourteenth victim. It made her nervous.

"I was just telling the Minister how I captured Black," Snape said with a muffled gloat and a smirk. "I believe he'll be receiving the Kiss within the hour."

"The sooner the better," Fudge added.

Finding her moment to evade the less than suitable company, Mona said, "Speaking of Black, you'll have to excuse me Minister. I've just been asked to treat him for a knock to the head. No use him bleeding to death if he's receiving the Kiss." A thought popped into her head. If she couldn't trust the Aurors, then maybe… "Would you mind helping me, Severus?"

The smug look ran off his face. "Me? There are plenty of Aurors down there, I'm sure they can manage with Black."

Before Mona could protest his excuse, the Minister began. "Come now, Severus! You handled Black once before. I'd hardly think he'd be trouble this time around. You wouldn't be long either, would you Miss Cartwell? See, then we can continue with our business the minute you return." Fudge gave a pat to Snape's shoulder, nodded politely to Miss Cartwell and then mingled his way back into the Hospital Ward. Snape scowled down on her.

"I hope you don't mind, Severus," Mona said smirked simply.

"Of course I mind. I was speaking to the Minister of Magic, why wouldn't I mind? Dumbledore can't promise me a place in the Order of Merlin, Lord forbid a high enough paycheck, and you cut me off from that?" Snape spat at her.

Mona's brow furrowed. Now she understood why Francis had meant when he said she exploded instead of got upset. Sadly enough she had become accustomed to Snape's outbursts on how she continually was doing wrong, but now she felt herself getting ready to burst. With half of her head screwed on right, she grabbed his arm and pointed threateningly in his face.

"Listen here you," she said lowly but with the ferocity of a dragon breathing fire, "I'm not trying to steal your high pedestal. But I don't trust those Aurors for a second. They can transfigure their certificates into eggs and suck on 'em for all I care. But I trust you," Mona shook him off and brought her hands down. Her fire had dwindled and all that was left was a flicker and a shimmer of her chocolate eyes. Not expecting him to answer, she said, "I need to grab my things. I'll meet you in front of Flitwick's." Mona left him there, stunned and curious.

Less than fifteen minutes passed and both were standing in front of the Charms classroom. Moonlight flooded through the windowpanes brashly. Severus had to squint from it. Mona stood in his shadow, a small khaki duffel in hand. They waited for one of them to break the silence.

Severus felt the need to apologize, but the habit had been broken years back in his school days when a young girl told him to save his breath. He truly did respect her, but his apathy was rooted too deeply to ever show it. Throughout the entire year he had been waiting for the moment where she would turn her paper of resignation into the Headmaster; he still could hardly believe she had held on this long. As a first year teacher he never had to deal with the constant nagging of the other professors since he had had Dumbledore on his side. The unruly students were there though, no doubt. And still even in that moment she still took everything with a light heart as if everything good was guaranteed soon after.

"I'm sorry, Severus," she blurted, breaking through his thoughts. "I just-I just want to get this over with. I didn't mean anything when I said that." Mona took in a deep breath. "We oughta head in. You ready?"

He nodded, and let her hold the door for him. The spacious little Charms room was littered with Aurors. They hung in the corners and in front of the door to the office. Immediately, the professors drew attention from the rat pack.

Mona cleared her throat. "I'm here to see Black," she announced to the oldest looking Auror. He had thick sideburns that desperately needed trimming, along with a pair of pig eyes set deep into his skull. He squared himself over to them.

"Are you a dementor?" he asked as if she was stupid.

"I'm a Healer," she quick-witted back, gripping her bag tightly.

Almost instantaneously the Auror dropped his act. "Well, alright! He's been waitin' long enough. Derbidge, go in with the Miss-" He waited for her to give a name.

"Cartwell. And the Auror won't be necessary. I've brought a friend," Mona stated firmly.

A toothy smile grew on his face like mold on bread. "Just protocol Miss Cartwell. Derbidge here is right good. He'll keep that mutt in his place. Be careful when yeh get in there, though. We charmed the door so it can't be opened until you knock on it three times. I'll lock the door behind yeh. Three knocks, right?" They stood in front of Flitwick's office door, wands out. "Ready? Go!" The door opened and Derbidge stepped in first, then Mona with Snape following close.

Mona had been in Flitwick's office a handful of times before, but it was very clear that his office usually wasn't this messy. Quills and parchment were scattered along the stone floor, leading a trail to the back of the room Leaning against the desk in the corner was a ragged and very thin man, his shaken hair hanging in front of his face lowly. On the side bathed in moonlight was a matted part that looked especially greasy and wet.

"Hey Black! You've got company," the Auror snickered cockily, his wand pointing at the figure. As she fumbled in her bag, Mona sent a look to Snape saying, 'See what I mean by go suck an egg?' He could barely resist a sly smirk if not for the company.

Usually when Mona was caring for a patient she would call them by their first name, but none of her patients before had been convicted criminals. As she got a steady grip on her bottle of dittany, she fumbled with her words, saying, "Er…Mr. Black I need to come over and get rid of that nasty cut."

"And don't you go trying anything," Derbidge added. Mona glared back at him and his lips clamped shut.

Just when Mona was about to take her first step towards Black, he raised his shaggy head. She froze when he met eyes with her. She was barely able to see he had grey eyes before he moved his attention to Snape. You could almost say he grinned.

"On your feet already, Snape? And barely a scratch even! I thought Harry did a better job than that-"

"Shut it, Black!" Snape shouted, pointing his wand dangerously. A nerve had obviously been touched.

Mona watched, stuck between terror and curiosity. Was there a history between these two? She jumped when she saw Black beckon her over.

"Come on dear, I don't bite. My head's killing me," he called with a raspy voice. She hated how his fathomless eyes followed her across the room. She knelt down beside him. Carefully, she stuck her wand in her back pocket and out of reach.

A steady silence folded over that made goosebumps form on Mona's skin. She began unscrewing the top to the dittany. "Anything else hurt?" It came out as a whisper and she had to repeat herself.

"Doesn't matter much, does it? No just the head." He flinched when she pinched several drops on his head. "Didn't think we'd get a chance to see each other again, Snape. Trying to impress the bird by keeping me in line?" He stuck his thumb at Mona. She felt her pride crawl down her throat and she swallowed, along with the Potions Master.

Her face reddened when Snape stepped closer. "Another foul word out of you and I'll personally pull every dementor out of Azkaban so they can get a chance at you, Black." Mona had thought Snape was venomous before, but now he sent chills up her spine and she dared not look up at him. Instead, Mona watched Black pull a tense sneer on his face at Snape.

"That's enough, Professor," the Auror butt in, taking Snape by the shoulder and pulling him back with his wand hand. Before she knew it Black was reaching around her and a loud crack sounded. A gritty hand grabbed her throat fiercely and she panicked, the bottle of dittany falling at her feet.

"Black!"

Another jet of red sparks flew across the room, nearly hitting Black as he dove behind the Healing Arts professor. When the smoke settled, Mona was staring desperately at Snape, the young Auror splayed next to a bookshelf, unconscious. With one hand clamped around her throat and the other holding her wand to her neck, Mona found herself in the predicament she had dreaded so much. Black shuffled them both onto their feet.

"Severus…_Severus do something!_" she croaked, clawing at Black's dirty fingers. He tightened his grip and she choked.

"I think you're going to have to let me go this time, Snivellus." His breath was heavy in Mona's ear and it took her all to not tremble.

"Let her go Black," Snape snarled, his hand knotting around his wand like one big, white knuckle.

"You open that door," Black bartered. He began shuffling back behind the desk and Mona followed. "Come on, Snape. My hand's getting a little antsy." The heat of a few sparks burned her bare neck, and she tried stamping on his feet.

"Get your hands off me you bastard!"

"I won't ask again, Snape," Black growled, holding her tightly until her face turned almost purple.

Panic flickered in Snape's eyes and his wand trembled for a split second.

"Sev-" Mona coughed, her eyes tearing up.

At the height of his rage, Snape cast his curse, red sparks flooding the room. As soon as the jinx had left his wand Snape knew he had done wrong. He had assumed Sirius would try ducking behind Mona, but had cast his stunning jinx with less control than he had hoped for. The jinx hit her on the shoulder, making her eyes roll back and her legs buckle under her immediately. Black had dove behind the desk, so she found no support from her fall, and her head struck the sharp corner of the oak slab desk.

After Snape watched in horror as her head hit the desk, his first instinct told him to see if she was alright. But curses flew over the back of the desk and he was forced to take cover. His ears burned hot and his blood boiled angrily.

Black sat up and was about to point a particularly nasty Blasting Curse at Snape, but Snape was faster. "_Expelliarmus_!"

The vinewood wand flew from Black's hand and next to Mona's fallen body. He stared, dumbstruck at his luck. Scrambling from behind the desk, he gave Snape barely a second before he charged him.

Long before he could raise his wand, Severus found himself below the crunching sound of Black's fist against his cheekbone. Snape stumbled, his wand falling from his hand. It felt as if all the years of taunting and scowling glares had come down to that moment. Every wish Snape had had as a boy to pound Black's skull in had led up to the climax where he was for once allowed to do so.

Black landed another blow just beneath the bone surrounding his eye socket. Snape's face felt red hot and sticky. Blindly he swung back, only hitting air. Black hairs stuck to his forehead. With a second swing he managed to wind Black in the stomach. He fumbled on the ground for his wand…wanted to finish Black off more than anything…A foot kicked it away then jammed itself into his stomach. He doubled over, giving in.

"If James was here," Black seethed softly between pants and groans, "He would've killed you. Bastard."

Snape rolled in and out of consciousness. He tried to sit up so he could find Mona…He didn't know whether the banging was coming from the door or from his head…a wind swept into the room…thinking he was delusional, Snape saw the jet black hair of James Potter along with the unmistakable green eyes of Lily. Before Snape could hear the faint gasp of a young girl, he was taken under the black.

...

"Severus! Oh Severus, wake up." Mona cupped his swollen face with one hand gently, shaking his shoulder with the other. She sniffled, her heart pounding in her ears. The shoulder she had been Stunned in she curled close to her chest. Mona shook him again. "Severus, come on…" His eyes fluttered, but did not open. She studied him with her eyes, brushing hair from his face. A bruise was forming just underneath his right eye and his left cheek was reasonably puffy. He groaned.

"Merlin, Severus!" she gasped. "Don't sit up, just stay here."

Eyes half opened, he looked up to Mona. A blood vessel had ruptured in his right eye. "Where's Black…Mona-"

"Are you alright?" they asked at the same time. Mona answered first.

"I'll be okay. It doesn't hurt too badly." She motioned to her neck. Purple bruises the shape of Black's fingers stood out against her pale skin.

"No I mean your head. Your head, Mona," he explained, speaking quietly for his own throbbing head.

Mona looked puzzled, and felt her head. She could remember subconsciously hitting something hard, but she thought it was the floor. Her hand combed through her messy hair, returning with a palm full of bright red blood. "I thought it was a headache," she whimpered.

"We need to get to the Hospital Wing," Severus said urgently. His head tilted up slightly and Mona helped him sit up. It felt like his insides were squirming as if they had all unhinged. "Where's Black?" he asked again.

Mona wiped her hand on her royal purple robes and grabbed her bag for bandages. "I don't know. I just woke up and saw you." She began unraveling an Instant Alcohol Wipe.

The banging continued on the door, muffled voices coming from the other side. Only for a second did it distract Snape, his trained eyes scanning the room. "He's gone."

"He's-what?"

"He's gone! Black isn't here," Severus exclaimed, trying to stand up to make sure Black wasn't hiding behind any furniture. He fell back when Mona pulled him down.

"Stop, Severus. That's impossible; we're on the third floor. If he jumped out the window-"

"Knowing Black he would," Severus snorted, moving to stand up again. His brilliant mind whirred, thinking of the wind and James Potter before he had passed out. His head boomed with blood rushing to his brain, turning his terrible headache into a migraine. With wand in hand, he checked behind all the furniture, even opening the window to see if he had jumped.

"Is he there-?" Mona called, her voice much quieter.

"HE'S GONE! Where the bloody hell would he have gone? Who would've…" Severus answered his own question before he had even voiced it. It wasn't James Potter he saw, but his son. It made practical sense to him. The mental image of the untidy hair and the flashing green eyes…Potter had helped him escape.

"What do you see?" Mona asked, her voice coming closer to him. She leaned her whole weight against the windowsill.

"It was Potter. I know he helped Black escape, I know it!" The late air whipped his shoulder length hair around his face.

Mona hesitated, breathing audibly. "You're delusional. Harry's up in the Hospital Wing sleeping. There's no way."

"Mona I saw him! I saw Potter just before I passed out," he defended, turning to her. Black's escape suddenly fell to the back of his mind. Severus could see she had paled extremely, her hair matted and wet like Black's was less then an hour ago. A red trickle peaked at her hairline.

"What is it?" she asked in a whisper, her eyelids drooping.

"You're bleeding," he said plainly. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he urged her to stand up. "We need to get you to Madam Pom-" Her eyes began to flit into the back of her head and she clung to him.

Severus's voice swam in and out of her ears. He told her to stay awake, that they were almost to the door, to not worry. She tried lifting a smile, but a grimace came instead. Her face pressed into his chest, smelling of sweat and starch. Loud, raucous voices trampled over Severus's velvety tone. Mona imagined herself falling into his billowing black cloak, it wrapping around her and strangling her til her face was purple, stealing her consciousness.

...

Mona was sure she was in St. Mungo's. The constant sound of feet scurrying, the smell of the dittany and Blood Replenishing Potions; it was all home to her. There was even the occasional eerie scream from one of the wards down the hall. But her head was pounding so hard, she began to think that it was a dream. Her eyelids opened.

The looming pillars of the Hospital Ward stared down on her. Her head pounded more than ever, as if someone was ramming a red hot poker through her right temple. She heard someone scream, and her lips moved. Dittany stung her skin and she tried to turn away from it. Her ears rang loudly. 'Where's the sedative?' she thought. 'Where's the sedative?'

Someone called her name, but Mona didn't want to answer. It hurt too much. She wanted to tell them to leave, just give her the bloody sedative then leave her to die. If it hadn't been for her stupidity Black would have still been in the castle. It was all her fault. Again, the dittany stung her. Her name was called again. There was no longer a banging on the door, but the voices were loud behind the door. _It was Potter, Potter let Black free…he knew it, he knew it…_

Her eyes opened again and she saw a blur of bright green…a Healer's robe she presumed…or was it a bowler hat? Someone was bent over her, talking and holding a glass. Mona read her lips. YOU-HAVE-TO-DRINK-THIS, they said. Mona looked at it again, and recognized the brew as a Blood Replenishing Potion. She nodded and with help, tipped it down her throat.

Her ears began to clear, but the pain in her head didn't subside. She could see it was Madam Pomfrey now, taking the glass and setting it next to Mona's bed. Poppy turned away from Mona to speak to the bowler hat.

A new figure appeared, clad in black and holding something to his face. Another glass was in his hand.

"I've never seen someone this feisty," Poppy said, sounding exhausted. "The dittany helped, but the swelling's still there. I think she fractured her skull." The nurse sounded desperate for sleep, but also desperate for a cure.

Mona saw Severus's lips move but couldn't hear him and it frustrated her. She tried sitting up but was pressed firmly down into the bed. NO, Poppy mouthed.

"I'm not stupid Poppy," she heard herself say. "Mary mother of Christ, my head!"

Madam Pomfrey prickled, but she knew that Mona was only snarky because she was in a great deal of pain. "Mona, we'll fix you up, don't worry. You've got to cooperate, though."

"I'm a Healer just as much as you are Poppy. I know what's wrong with me, I can put in my two cents," Mona snapped. A sharp pain in her head made her flinch.

"You are the patient, Mona! Not the Healer!" she came back briskly. "Come help me, Severus."

Stepping up to the side of her bed, Severus sat down next to Mona. His usual glaring black eyes were somber. He removed the cool pack from his face and set the goblet on the bed stand. "Mona, we're trying to help."

"Oh shove off you lousy braggart!" she barked at him. "Don't you have other people to bully?" When he didn't answer, she tried pushing him off the bed with her good arm. "Jesus Christ!"

He surprised her when he grabbed her wrist. "Mona. Stop," he said firmly. "I have a potion that can help. But you've got to calm down."

"What potion is it?" Mona tried shaking her wrist out of his hand, but his grip was very firm. Her head pounded fiercely and she almost screamed, resorting instead to grinding her teeth.

"It's a Calming Draught," Snape said smoothly.

"She won't drink it," Poppy remarked.

"The only thing I should be drinking is some goddamned Skele-Gro."

"She has to. She'll heal faster," Snape advised, setting her wrist down at her side.

"If my skull really is cracked I need Skele-Gro! I need proper-"

Mona was suddenly thrust down and her mouth clamped shut. Snape's fiery black eyes bored into her, and she stared back, terrified. "You need to calm down." His voice was quiet but brimmed with force. "Your head will be fine, but it's absolutely necessary for you to stop this. I understand you're in pain, but you've got to." Snape lifted the Body Bind curse a moment later.

Her throat burned from taking a breath. She suddenly realized how many eyes were on her; students in other beds were watching her curiously, biting off chunks of chocolate. Luckily, the Minister had left from seeing her in such an awful state. Guiltily, she turned her head to the bed stand. The goblet sat there, along with syringes, and other bottles of medicine she found hard to pronounce. The same fear she had felt when Black had wrapped his fingers around her neck twisted her stomach. Mona's eyes returned to Severus.

"It'll hurt so," she whispered, knowing that what Poppy had to do to fix her skull would be painful and unpleasant, even if she would presumably be sleeping through it. Poppy grabbed her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Mona watched something break in his eyes. "I know," Severus said just as earnestly. "And I'm sorry." He returned the cool pack to his face, but never kept his line of sight off her. Poppy drew curtains around the bed, and Mona closed her eyes. She wished Francis was there with her.

**A/N**** Yes,**** I ****know**** this**** was**** a ****long**** chapter.**** I**** hope**** you ****enjoyed ****it,**** though!**** Feed****back**** is**** great;**** Comment ****and**** review**** please.**** Sara**


	3. Relatable Spies

**It's so great to see people reading this! I know S.S/OC stories don't get much love, but I really feel like I've got something good here and I truly appreciate every view I get! You guys mean the world to my hp obsessed brain. But onward ho, onto the foreboding dialogue. Enjoy!**

**The Rockiest Paths**

**Chapter 3-Relatable Spies**

There was no other creature that Mona despised more than owls. She hated how they could turn their heads all the way around, how they would puke pellets in your bed when you forgot to feed them, even how they would run their beaks through their filthy feathers. It disgusted her.

The worst part was when she received letters, though. She adored getting letters from her friends and family, but there always was an owl attached to the letter. Mona didn't understand why owls had to be used when some wizard or witch could just invent a charm to make the letter take flight on its own.

It was early the morning the Hogwarts students would arrive that she procured a remissive letter from her older brother, Mason. Last she had heard from him, he had stated that he would be away on business for a few weeks and wouldn't be able to owl. It had been three months since Mona had heard word from him.

When the tawny masked owl tapped impatiently on her chamber window, her first instinct was to swat at it like a fly. But grudgingly she opened the window, and as quickly as she could without touching its leg she undid the parchment. The owl detecting her resentment didn't further for a treat and flew back to the Owlery.

With coffee in hand, Mona read:

_Dear Mona,_

_ Really sorry I didn't owl you sooner. Been busy lately. Weird things have been going on around these parts and I'm just starting to figure it out. My mark's been burning and it scares me. He's coming back, sis. Keep on your toes, even in Hogwarts._

_ Sis, don't you dare worry about me, either. You know I can take care of myself. I'll try owling more to keep you in the loop. _

_ Mason_

Mona reread the letter once more, hearing her brother's honest voice through the scribbled words. Immediately after, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, heaving a very long sigh. It was never easy having a Death Eater for a brother.

...

It came in waves. The pounding in her head, the stiffness in her joints, the revolting nausea. It woke her momentarily, making her groan and call out like a sick dog. Her hair was pulled tightly and it was hard to move her head. She wanted help, and the priest she knew so well came first to mind.

"Francis," she mumbled. A hand turned her onto her back carefully then pressed the lip of a cup to her mouth. Mona welcomed it, her eyes half-opening and expecting to see Francis. Black eyes hovered over her. Before she could fully recognize the face, Mona fell back into a deep, soundless sleep.

...

The moment she knew she was awake was the same second she wanted to fall back to sleep. With grading papers and talking Quidditch with Professor Lupin, she hardly had the chance to sleep for more than six hours on a regular night. But lying under warm sheets without a worry in the world, she wouldn't have minded staying there for the next eternity. It was complete bliss to just listen to her heartbeat, the sheets curled around her face, let someone else keep one eye open.

Mona moved slightly and all serenity was broken. Her eyes moved behind lids and her toasty fingers loosened their grip on the sheets. Thoughts of the day before swam into view, making her serene dream slip away. She remembered Black nearly choking her, screaming because her head felt like it had split into two, the pitiful look in Severus's eyes. Mona drew a quick breath when she recalled pressing her face into his chest, the feeling of that safety making her stomach flip.

"No, I told you, Miss Levelstone. No visitations today! Don't you dare think of bringing that heinous thing in here, Mr. Weasley."

Mona listened intently to one of the Weasley twins say back, "Aw, but Madame Pomfrey I guarantee it'll make her day. Can't I just slip it under the door?"

"Not a chance, it'll smear," said the other Weasley twin.

Stretching, she could feel every ache and pain acutely. Her stomach churned unpleasantly and the shoulder she had been stunned in was very stiff. Drowsily, her eyes opened to the blinding afternoon sun shining down on her. Madame Pomfrey stood behind the heavy oak doors to the Hospital Ward which were opened only a hands length so she could speak to the crowd of students outside.

"Nothing is being slipped under this door!" Madame Pomfrey said briskly. "No visiting today! All of you shoo!" Mona flinched when she clapped the doors closed and locked them. Madame Pomfrey jumped when she heard Mona try to laugh, the sound dry and raspy in her throat. "My goodness, dear! Scared the hide right off me."

Mona was about to apologize, but Poppy began, "Did you just wake up? That'd be…six hours then. I'd say you could do with a few potions, don't you?" Bustling about, she flicked her wand towards a cabinet or two where bottles of all different colors and sizes fell lightly onto a tray on Mona's bed stand. Mona named them off in her head: All-Purpose Spell Salve, Hydrating Potion, Bruise Paste, Miss Trevett's Scrape Sealer…

"You have a bottle of Miss Trevett's?" Mona croaked in a laughing tone, looking over the grimy bottle. She recalled the Healer that had trained her saying that 's was basically, 'glue and magic.'

"An oldie, but a goodie," Poppy smirked, holding a roll of Cob's Web in one hand. "How do you feel?" She sat down and began measuring amounts of potions, ears turned to her only patient at the moment.

"Tired," said Mona, being the only word that had come to her mind. Her fingers trailed along the bandage wrapped around her head, recognizing the tender spot near her right temple. "And stiff." She could feel now that she was no longer in her purple teacher's robes, but in her pajama sweats and shirt. The sheets rustled while she sat up. "Yourself?"

Poppy's smirk bloomed into a full-out grin. "I can't remember the last time a patient has asked me how I am." She sighed, basking in the rare moment. "Fine, I guess. The castle has been nutty about how you were, as I've heard it, almost killed by Sirius Black."

Mona made a face. "That's a lie. I was closer to dying when I broke my arm way back when."

"Hogwarts gossip," Poppy shrugged. "Get used to it." Handing her a meticulous glass of Hydrating Potion, she watched Mona take to it warmly. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say you're wondering why half the school was standing outside the door."

"No," she said after one last swallow, handing the cup back, "I was going to ask how Snape is. But that too," Mona added.

"My second guess. He's well. Just after lunch now, so he'd be in class now, wouldn't he? But yesterday, oh! I've never seen him act so."

Restraining her curiosity, Mona swished the potion around her mouth, easing her dry throat. She waited until Poppy finished pouring a second potion to ask. "What did he do?"

"I don't know if it was guilt or he had responded badly to the bruise paste…you know how some people are affected differently from the horned onion powder in the paste…but he refused to leave your side the entire day," Poppy said with wide eyes and pinched lips. "Only left once to grab another batch of potions. Oh, and for the loo. Ate all his meals here, but he barely eats as it is." She clucked her tongue, turning a spoon through the Spell Salve, making it an even thickness.

Mona had to step back for a moment to take this in. She could vaguely recall those hovering black eyes giving her potion…could that have been him? She had been trying to reach out to him the whole year, and the one day where he intentionally wanted to be near her she had been unconscious. Damn her back and again to hell, she thought. It had to be guilt. He was, after all, part of the reason why she was downing healing potion after another. There could be no other excuse for the strange behavior.

"I'm surprised you didn't try to stop him." she commented, trying not to sound surprised. Mona pulled part of her shirt down to look at her stunned shoulder. She understood then why her shoulder was hurting so badly. Deep, yellow bruises marked where the spell had hit her squarely, along with minor spell burns that twisted all the way to the back of her shoulder blade. Dipping her finger into the container of salve provided, she smoothed generous amounts on the bare skin. The aloe vera and dumpleseed mixture felt cool and soothed her skin. She wondered wildly if Snape had been the one applying her medicine before.

"If you'd have seen the grit in his face, you wouldn't have crossed him either," Poppy assured, trading the salve for the bruise paste. "No doubt in my mind though that he'll be back up here after dinner."

"Lord, you make him sound like he's obsessed," Mona grunted. She hadn't meant Poppy to hear her, so she blushed when Poppy laughed.

"Don't speak so soon. Only reason a man like him would act so is out of-"

Mona couldn't listen to this any longer. "Enough, Poppy. Enough. If Severus even heard rumor of such a stretch he'd have my throat." She leaned back into the pillows and closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the gentle tear of Cob's Web being ripped into pieces. Just talking to Poppy was beginning to tire her. Could affection and Severus Snape be used in the same context? she wondered cynically. Mona recalled how Black had asked Snape if he was 'trying to impress the bird.' Was he one to impress? Hardly, Mona told herself. It has to be guilt, she reminded herself, sleep slurring her thoughts.

When she opened her eyes again, the sun was just beginning to set, a hundred different shades of red, yellow, and orange cascading through the tall windows and bouncing off the walls. The light gleamed directly in her eyes, making her squint and groan. She was surprised when a deep baritone chuckle met her. Turning her head, Mona met the hovering black eyes that she had seen the night before.

"Evening," Severus Snape said prudently, softly.

"Hey," Mona yawned groggily. "I fell asleep again." As she stretched her arms above her head, she could feel that the tight bandage that was wrapped around her head before had been replaced by a piece of Cob's bandage. It felt good to have her hair tousled all around her face and curled against the pillow. "How's my head looking?"

Severus's eyes shifted. "Getting there. I say in two weeks your head will be as thick as ever." Mona couldn't help but laugh, a hand over her stomach so to not overdo it.

"Jest," she called him, her eyes drowsy from the many potions. Mona could also see that he looked just as tired as her. It looked as though he had drawn charcoal lines under his eyes. "Mother of God, if I look half as tired as you give me another sleeping draught." What would have passed as a sneer for a normal person she could see was the closest Severus could bring to be a smile. "Oh Severus."

"You would be the first to know that the last few days have been chaos." His tone was completely controlled and it made Mona wonder, taking time to gaze at her present company. Splayed neatly across his lap, she saw he held the newest stack of ungraded papers, his legs crossed casually. All of the swelling had gone from his face and there was only a faint shadow of a bruise under his right eye. They were the only two in the ward.

"I'll agree with that." Looking back to his face, she asked how he was. He took the question smoother than Poppy, only a twitch of the lips to show that he wasn't asked the question much either.

"Not a question usually heard from a patient," he said, shuffling his papers back into neat piles and back into his grading book. "Well enough, I suppose. Classes have been overly rambunctious of late."

Mona raised a lazy eyebrow. "For example?"

"Too many first years have asked me whether or not you are being kept alive only by a stasis charm." With a waft of his ebony wand, the stacks of papers shrunk then fit comfortably into his pocket. "I was forced to remove many house points."

"How many points did you take?" Mona asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Ninety, I believe."

Mona propelled herself forward in the bed, making a mocking sound at Snape. "It hardly sounds like you were forced to remove any points. I would consider it a hobby for you." At the last word she winced, holding her shoulder tenderly. "Hand me the Spell Salve, please?"

Snape didn't waste a moment to Summon the salve from the cupboard, catching it in his smooth hands and unscrewing the cap. Mona thanked him, dropping part of her shirt to expose her bare shoulder.

"I should apologize, Mona," he stated quietly, trying not to stare at the fading spell burns and many bruises marking her fair skin. Her fingers traced masterfully over the wound, but she was all eyes and ears on him. He never called her by her first name. Maybe once before, but hardly ever. Snape's gaze darted awkwardly away from her exposed shoulder. "I never meant to-"

"Severus," she broke through his explanation. Mona shook her head, mimicking the setting sun in her smile. "I forgive you. I'm fine, don't worry about this clumsy moorgirl." Her smile turned sly. "Just work on your aim some for my sake."

And that ended all hostility between them. It couldn't become a friendship quite yet, but for the situation it was the closest yet.

After her shoulder was once more soothed, Mona fell back into her pillows. "So," she began, "A little bird told me that you were quite busy the day after I was knocked head over heels."

The Snape she knew too well swept back across his face, releasing a small sigh. "Poppy," he said grudgingly, uncrossing his legs, knowing immediately what his counter was speaking of.

"A whole day! Did you feel that guilty? I just don't understand why you would act so unlike yourself," she said delightfully, crossing her arms over her stomach, glowing silently. Mona could see a strategy burning behind his eyes as he momentarily looked out the window.

"Who is Francis?" he asked rather candidly.

The muscles in her mouth tightened then dropped to a slight and startled frown. "You didn't answer my question."

"I find my question to be much more interesting than yours," he sneered quite smugly, regarding her annoyance. When she didn't answer him back, he continued, "You mentioned the name in your sleep. At the time you seemed to mistake me for him."

Though the explanation helped, Mona didn't relax. "He's a good friend. That's all." A mental picture of Francis's flashing smile and wire-rimmed glasses came and went. "Satisfied?"

"For the time being," Snape smirked. "And I don't plan to answer your question any time soon, either."

Mona found her advantage in this. Instead of pouting as Severus would have liked, she took him by surprise. "That's fine. I've thought of a better question anyways." She nearly giggled at his now peaked curiosity.

"Ask away, then."

"It seemed to me before in Flitwick's office that you and Black knew each other better than I think you'd give credit to." Mona enjoyed watching his face twist and his eyes glint distastefully. "If you wouldn't mind explaining."

"You are shrewd, Miss Cartwell." Pausing, he reasoned over her question for a moment, deciding on his answer, knowing fully she would prod no matter what he said. "We were schoolmates."

Mona played with the Spell Salve container, tossing it between soft hands, cocking an eyebrow. "Friends?"

He sneered. "More the opposite. He and his band of rebels found the fondest pleasure in taunting me."

She nodded. "I see. You seemed very…temperamental around him." Setting the salve on the nightstand, she asked, "Did he do something to you?"

He got that look on his face again. Mona had seen it times before throughout the year whenever she spoke to Severus. It was a calculating look, as if he was measuring her with his eyes to see if she was worth his time. Mona didn't know whether the look was a good or bad thing, but nonetheless it made her endeavors for his approval seem to be heading in the right direction.

Snape opened his mouth but nothing came out immediately. "Relatively speaking it was the group of them, but in my school days he nearly ended my life." Mona gaped.

"Would you expect anything less from Black? Don't tell me, Miss Cartwell, that you think there is some good in a ruthless blighter like him."

"Ugh, of course not," Mona scoffed. Deep within the throb of her heartbeat, though, she did believe there was good in Sirius Black. She knew first hand that people weren't born evil or hating; always there was purpose to give example. "But you would have been children; how could there be that much hate between you two?"

Snape shrugged, letting the heartfelt question bounce off him like an arrow against armor. "Anger never leaves entirely. It recedes until it can be used to its full potential. True?" He flicked his wand towards the salve, letting it levitate back to its proper place on the cupboard shelf. "He and his friends tried to trick me into following them to their hideout under the Whomping Willow."

He neednt say more for her, knowing well enough the tree's temper. "How horrible! I suppose some leopards never change their spots." She watched him nod in agreement, but not raise his eyes. His composure seemed to have slipped momentarily. Snape looked annoyed and contemplative at the same time, but before she could make out which was more intense, he took again the stony expression he wore often.

In that glimpse, Mona caught something that she never suspected from Severus. Thinking back to the tense minutes in Flitwick's office, she recalled the trifling glimpse of doubt in his black eyes. He was worried for her, of course she understood that, but now with this new knowledge, Mona grasped that Snape had been truly afraid that she would be doomed to his same fate of being Black's victim. Her empty stomach knotted and she wanted nothing more than to steal the weights on his shoulders away. But Mona had dealt with men like Snape before, and acting brashly would send him running.

"Black hasn't been caught yet, has he?" Mona changed the subject, leaving her heavy thoughts for later.

"No." He had withdrawn back behind his walls, leaving the short space between them to fill with silence. Mona didn't like it much, though.

The silence was substituted by her crawling back under the covers. "I'm glad you're alright, Severus."

Unlike before, the arrow she sent through her words struck him. "I'm sorry?"

"Well think about it. How many times in the last few days have you put your life at risk? A bit more than me I'd say. And it just proves you're much cleverer than me since you're the one out and about even though you, in my opinion, risked it all. And I'm the one stuck here," yawned Mona. She thought about what she had just said. "Yes," Mona said approvingly, "Could've been much worse."

Snape didn't have anything to say to her, neither wanting to thank her for being considerate or scold her to mind her own business. To himself only, he could say he truly did admire the woman; she was much more like him than he would care to give credit to. Then again, her compassion and need to understand killed him, and he could think of no defense against it except for distance.

Mona watched him calculate once more through her half open eyes. They must have talked for an hour, and she felt completely spent from it. Turning onto her side so she faced Snape, Mona yawned once more.

"You ought to send Poppy before I fall asleep. I'm expecting to swallow another tray of potions for the next fortnight; I might as well not miss tonight." Her heart fluttered when his stony face cracked and a laugh escaped through the crevices.

"I won't keep you anymore," Snape said, rising from his chair. "I'll see if there's anything I could brew for you." With a curt nod, Severus excused himself.

"Good evening, Miss Cartwell."

"Good evening, Severus."

...

After all the students were snug in their beds after the Homecoming feast and all her lesson plans were laid out neatly on her desk, Mona received a very strange and hectic letter. It was late and the owl that woke her glared at her, the stars reflecting in its amber eyes. She unfolded the note between grasps for the light switch, nearly tripping over the furniture as she went. When the lights came on, she could see it was merely a scrap of newspaper her brother had written on. Squinting, she read:

_There's a spy in Hogwarts._

Mona found that she hadn't breathed at all while she had read the single sentence. The urgency in the flashing text made a lump of fear curdle inside her. There seemed to be only one person to her in the entire school who could be a spy for one of the darkest wizards to grace the Wizarding World, and he was only three levels below her.

A flashing, simmering anger evolved from that fear, then. How could she allow her guard to let down to such a cynical git like Severus Snape? She was always reminding herself of how much Snape and her father were alike. Wasn't she aware of how cruel a person Dad was, and Snape was a reflection of that! Mona never was one to pace, but this was obviously a reason to pace.

She needed a plan, Mona first decided. If Snape was as good of a spy she assumed he was, then any wrong move would send off his hair trigger suspicions. Yes, she decided, I'll watch him. If anything he does is out of place, then I'll have every reason to report him. Mona looked back to the piece of newspaper. But what if Mason didn't want Snape to be caught, though? Maybe he told her this as a precaution…she was never sure with Mason. For most of the rest of the night she laid wide awake, letting ideas and possibilities tumble around while she tossed from side to side.

By morning though, her choice was indefinite. She would spy on the spy.


	4. Leprosy Of Lycanthropy

A/N: It's been a stretch, hasn't it? Well,I have had this chapter posted on HPff for several months and I thought I might as well post it here too! Enjoy!

[But remember I don't own any of JKR's characters. I do take pride in my OC's, though ;D]

**Chapter**** 4-****The Leprosy Of Lycanthropy**

She couldn't raise her eyes to Remus. He had become such a close friend and to hear this hurt much more than she bet he had expected. They had graded each others papers when they were sick, had tea practically everyday…heck if it wasn't for Remus she never would have bothered with butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Now this? It was a hard secret to keep that he was a werewolf, yes, but someone must have told.

Instead she looked to the bed next to her. Under the covers was the Weasley twins' get-well present to her: the skeleton stolen from her classroom, dressed in surgical garb, a straw hat, and a pink boa. On the front of the surgical shirt, written in faux blood was 'Get Well Soon!' smiley face and all. Other presents and cards were littered cheerily around the skeleton, reminding her again and again of the impact she had made on the students of Hogwarts. But all that mattered now was the impact of her friend's words swirling around her head, thoughts that weren't comforted even by the Weasley prank.

"Mona, I'm sorry but this is how it_ has to be_," Remus Lupin apologized once again, squeezing her small hands in his tired and achy ones. She had promised him before a potion for his occasional arthritis, but now it seemed she'd ever be able to give it to him.

Professor R.J. Lupin sat at the flank of Mona's hospital bed, his posture slightly bent while he stared at her heartbroken face. It wasn't Dumbledore's choice that Remus was resigning from the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts, only he himself, and Mona was fully aware. His actions were uncontrolled the night of Black's escape and by the skin of his teeth he didn't hurt people. These had to be the consequences of his actions.

She hated the waver in her voice as she spoke. "It was just one mistake, Remus. If any other person made one mistake they'd get a second try. You deserve better than this! You shouldn't resign."

"And put Albus through all the trouble the media would cause? A werewolf," he said, his voice lowered, "teaching at Hogwarts?" Remus shook his head. "I learned long enough ago that people like me are expected to control themselves all the time."

"But are always feared that they won't control themselves," Mona added, turning back to his weary face. "People like you are some of the best people I know," she said softly, making him smile quietly. Mona tried imagine what Remus would be like if he wasn't a werewolf. Maybe he'd have been more like those wild friends of his he loved to talk about.

"You would say that, wouldn't you?" He paused, glancing out the window, the smile still lighting his face. "I bet that tomorrow when you walk into the Great Hall for breakfast everyone's gonna jump to their feet and applaud for you." Mona's cheeks felt hot and she scoffed half-heartedly at him. "Those kids care about you that much."

Mona wanted to tell him that he deserved their applause just as much, but she remembered that he wasn't a hero. Remus could have killed people that night at the Shrieking Shack. For a moment she glowed under his praise then fell right back down to try and find the words to say goodbye to her friend.

"They'll miss you, Remus."

He shrugged, pulling his hands away so to lean back on the bed. "I doubt many of the Slytherins will miss me. Didn't care for many of them anyways."

"Like who?" She asked casually. Mona persisted when he told her teacher/student confidentiality. "You've already resigned; they aren't your students anymore. Who is it?"

He eyed the Hospital Wing, making sure their privacy was unperturbed. "Malfoy," he said without hesitating, a grin on his face. "He was always watching for me to make one slip so he could tell Daddy." They laughed together, the sound familiar but also seeming a guilty pleasure. "Then Snape. He probably trained Malfoy."

"Snape?" Mona cocked her head slightly. "What did he do? He brewed you Wolfsbane all year. I wouldn't consider him that bad." Almost immediately Mona noticed the sudden drop in Remus' face as if he realized he said something he shouldn't have. "Well?"

"It's nothing. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Remus, whatever it is just tell me," she laughed. Seeing how hesitant he had become her smile dimmed cautiously. "What did Snape do?"

"Erm," he started then stopped, trying to find the right words but not finding any for a moment. "After Black escaped…he told all the Slytherins of my, ah, condition." He sat very tense-like, waiting for Mona's reaction. "I suppose Malfoy got his chance to tattle to Daddy."

She sat in disbelief like if she had been struck hard by something but hadn't seen it coming. Yesterday Snape had apologized to her, something she had least expected. The sincerity of their whole conversation seemed to turn to dust by what Remus had told her now. Betraying a colleague for personal gain? What kind of man was Severus Snape?

"He ratted you out?" she said, outraged.

Lupin nodded in response. "Yeah," he muttered, seeing that she was hurt once more by his words. Taking his weight off his hands, Remus moved closer to her. "It's not worth getting mad about, okay? He isn't worth it."

She was angry with Snape, though. Under the surface she was livid at him, but all she could do was feel the burning in her eyes and her throat knot up. Mona shook her head, tears glimmering. "It's just so unfair," she said thickly. She reached out to him and he didn't hesitate to wrap her in his arms. "Can't you just stay? Remus…" He didn't need to hear her words to know how miserable she was.

His face bent down into her head of dark brown hair, and Remus breathed her in. The smell of rosewater resonated from her skin and he tried hard to remember the scent. "I'm sorry," he said again. Remus breathed out, exhaling the smell back through her hair. "I can't change it. But," he said, lifting up his head and letting her out of his arms. "I'll write as often as I can."

Mona sniffled, wiping her reddened eyes. "You better."

He tried a slim smile at her. "I'll try and find a way to send you them without the owl, just for you." When she chuckled at him his smile grew a bit.

"How soon do you have to leave?" she asked once her eyes were clear of tears.

"I still have to finish packing, but I should be on the afternoon train today."

"Then you should get to," she told him faintly, her eyes returning to look over the skeleton.

"Mona," Remus pulled her hand back into his, giving it one last squeeze. She looked so sick and so sad to him. He was used to seeing her ping off the wall vibrantly, not wallow. Knowing well enough the many potions and pain killers she was being given weren't brightening her mood, he still felt guilty to bring her such news. For the last time, Remus smoothed his fingers over the back of her hand, bringing her attention back to him. "You know how much I'll miss you."

Her returning smile was full of melancholy. "I'll miss you, too."

"I'll keep my eyes out for your sister."

"Oh, how about I give you her address? Here, let me write it down." Obviously enjoying this moment of stalling, she grabbed for a slip of paper and wrote down the address. "Jazelle's a sweetheart; you two'll click nicely, I'm sure."

Remus thanked her, and with the paper in hand he stood up, letting her hand go. He didn't want to say goodbye to her; honestly when was the next time he would see her? He could only coax a sigh out of himself.

"Bye, Remus," she said quietly.

"Bye, Mona." He was about to turn to leave, until the terrible guilt in his heart made him turn back. He reached down to her and kissed her head, relishing the smell of rosewater once more. "Get better soon." And before Mona could respond back he was down the ward, walking away from her.

"Remember to write!" Mona called after him.

He looked back before leaving through the door. "Alright. And don't get mad at Snape. He's not worth getting angry at."

"I'll try."

"Goodbye, Mona."

"Bye, Remus."

...

It stung her severely that the seat where Professor Lupin had inhibited was filled by another foreign person: the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Alastor Moody. She stood in the Great Hall's doorway watching him pile poached eggs and sausage onto his plate, then savagely devour them. Her lip curled at the sight. Still, it was her seat and she wasn't that easily wavered. Taking a comfortable step forward, she made her way to the front table, enjoying the view of sleep-deprived students.

The House banners hung proudly over each table, differentiating each group of grumbly students. The Ravenclaws looked the most wary, most skimming through their new textbooks while eating breakfast. The Gryffindors on the other hand looked like they hadn't slept a wink, mindlessly pouring syrup onto their French toast while dozing in the other hand. All exempting Miss Hermione Granger, of course. Mona just couldn't understand how such a book-smart-know-it-all could become a Gryffindor.

"Mornin'" said the gravelly voice next to Mona as she sat down. She straightened her robes before answering, keeping her line of vision at the mass of students.

"Good morning, Professor. How was your first night in the castle?" She was just being polite to him, and hoped beyond anything that he would decide to sit somewhere else tomorrow morning. She turned to him when he didn't answer, meeting his relentless stare that instantly made Mona uneasy. His good eye kept close contact with hers while his other trained top and bottom of her.

"Better than what I had before," Moody answered after the brief amount of staring. "Late morning I see for you. Sleep in?" Chiseling a sausage link in half, he stuck a piece in his mouth and began to chew.

Now she was praying he'd choose to sit somewhere else tomorrow. Before replying, Mona checked her watch then made a quick glance to the opposite side of the table where Professor Snape sat at the left hand of Dumbledore. One said it was 7:40 in the morning while the other looked too preoccupied with shuffling his food around compared to being spied on.

"I always come down a bit later than most," she returned, picking up a mug and filling it with coffee. "I'm not very fond of owls, so I try and come down after the post has been brought." Mona flinched when Moody started to cackle.

"A grown witch afraid of owls! And I thought I'd seen it all." Moody didn't catch her glare as he shook his head. "Next you'll be sayin' you're afraid of your own shadow!" Mona's face reddened once a few of the closer students looked up to the obnoxious Dark Arts teacher.

"Yes, well," Mona cleared her throat, "You'll have to excuse me, Professor. I have a few things to arrange before classes start." Quickly she filled her plate and grabbed her coffee. "Best wishes for your classes."

Again, he continued to stare at her before he decided to grunt a goodbye, but she was long gone before she saw any of this. She didn't dare to look at Snape again, knowing fully that her entering then leaving the Hall quickly would attract attention so naturally she assumed he would be watching.

In all honesty ,she told herself as she leapt onto a moving flight of stairs, this was definitely not how she had hoped her second year would go. She missed Remus terribly, and sitting next to Moody was such a slap of reality that she just wanted to crawl back in bed and mope that things hadn't gone her way. Mona wanted to have Remus there so she could tell him all about Snape being a spy and together they would plot ways to exploit him. They would plan over tea and biscuits and make bets on who would win the Britain Quidditch Cup while trading stories of who's the klutziest student of them all. A longing knotted in her stomach as she stepped off the flight and onto another.

Bloody hell did she miss that man.

...

It wasn't until she stepped into her classroom the day after Madame Pomfrey had kicked her out of the Hospital Ward did Mona fully realize that her friend and favorite professor was gone from the castle. There wasn't a warm face to greet her neither a quickly quilled note saying he'd be back in a tick.

There was, however, her cozy Healing Arts classroom. In the front of the room was her desk, slathered with piles of ungraded papers and ink stains as usual. Thick tapestries dyed deep blues and mossy greens hung on both walls retaining as much heat allowed. In the remaining space were the desks and cabinets, filled with equipment and a malady of potions. Hidden in the far left corner was the door to her office, which was cramped but snug. She adored her room, enjoying her view of the Herbology greenhouse and the Black Lake farther out. And the Owlery was out of view. Merlin was she glad about that.

Wrapped casually in her wool shawl and moccasins, Mona shuffled to her desk in the hope Remus did leave her a goodbye note. With a glance her small hope fell, not finding a glimpse of his handwriting anywhere. There was plenty of differing handwriting, though: third years' research essays on body systems, get well cards signed by a group of Hufflepuffs, a bundle of lab reports from her NEWT classes…

Her eyes sharply caught on the corner of a manila folder buried under the chaos overtop. Sitting behind her desk, she pulled it out from the pile. Mona was surprised to see that the little corner was a relatively large manila folder, encompassing something thick and stiff like a board. In neat script was written To Professor Cartwell, From Ms. Frew. She smiled genuinely for the first time since Remus had left.

If Mona had been a professor who favored students, she undoubtedly would favor Miss Amelia Frew above most. Miss Frew was a fifth year Slytherin, filled with mischievous wit as much as intelligence. Along with her wit came a shyness around her classmates which Mona didn't always understand. Not having many friends, she always seemed to wander to Mona's door after classes for either help on assignments or a friendly cup of tea. The potential she held with her quick-thinking mind induced the Healing Arts professor to push the young Slytherin into the possible career as a Healer.

Heaving the package tediously out of her lopsided pile of papers, she found that it was, indeed, very light. Mona couldn't guess what it was, and the suspense was murderous. Sticking her finger under the closed flap she tore the package opened and pulled out the gift underneath. Her smile spread across her face contagiously.

It was a painting. An ocean scene took up the small canvas, salty waves crashing against rotund rocks, the current flowing back and forth. It was a wonderful gift, Mona decided, something Miss Frew must have picked up from a shop awhile ago. When she glanced to the corner of the piece to see who the artist was her smile broadened admirably. Amelia's initials stood white against the dark rocks to her surprise.

"Fantastic," Mona said to herself. She reached back into the folder and found a note.

_ Professor Cartwell,_

_ I'm sorry you got hurt that night Sirius Black escaped. Hope this painting helps you relax a bit more. See you in class._

_ Amelia Frew_

She treasured both the soft-spoken letter and the little painting like they were gold, placing the painting in her office so she would always be able to see it and the letter in her desk drawer for safe keeping It seemed to her that even while Remus had left the castle, stepping down from his position of Best Brewer of Tea and Conversation, there were also hidden friends about the castle Mona seemed to have taken for granted. Retiring to her office chair, she watched the painting's tide recoil then crash against the rocks. Of course, Remus couldn't be replaced but there nonetheless was company to be had besides the humble werewolf.

...

Classes had begun at the strike of eight o' clock from the tower east of the Healing Arts classroom. Starting her day she had her N.E.W.T level 6th Years, a jumble of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws mostly except for a quartet of Hufflepuffs and Miss Amelia Frew. Through all of her morning classes, syllabuses of what was to be taught during the year were reviewed by groggy students. When her class of third years muddled in the period before lunch, Professor Cartwell had just about had enough of the students' sleepy state.

Striding through the full rows of third years, she passed out the class syllabus. "I want everyone to put their first name in the top right-hand corner of this then you can put it away." She paused, her bright eyes catching on a red-haired girl's light blue eyes. "We're going to have our first quiz."

A soft groan met her request as they shuffled back in their seats to reach into their book bags for parchment and quills. This was completely spur of the moment for her. She had no idea what questions she was going to ask. It scared her in a way, the unknown, but there was an indomitable thrill that she got from not knowing; she couldn't quite pin point it.

"Number one," she called out, sitting back onto her desk. Her legs dangled as she thought of the question. "If the head bone is connected to the neck bone, then what bone is connected to the hip bone?" Some of them giggled. She smiled.

"Number two. Which organ makes the gurgling sound when you're hungry?" More people stifled their laughs. Her eyes caught a boy sitting in the front row, leaning back casually in his chair after writing. "You think this is too easy, Mr. Laliberte?"

He went a touch red in the face at the attention, his eyes shying away from her ever warm chocolate ones.

"Number Three, for Mr. Laliberte." Raising herself, she strode over to a tall cabinet in the far corner of the classroom. "What is in the closet?" Everyone craned their necks back, waiting for the answer. Professor Cartwell kept her eyes on the boy in the front, though. "Come on, now. We need some brave soul to open the cupboard," she coaxed him, waving him to stand.

Timidly he rose, shuffling over to the far corner. Smiling encouragingly to him, he approached the cupboard. The class, watching intently, didn't make a sound as his hand reached for the handle and tugged.

He gave a short bark of fear. Toppling over top him was the class skeleton, still endowed with pink boa and all from Fred and George. Just before the skeleton got the best of the third year, Professor Cartwell swept the skeleton upwards with her wand, leading him to the front of the classroom.

"All right there, Mr. Laliberte? It's good to know there's at least one student here that holds high bravery. I guess you won't be too quick to think my class will be a bore." She pressed a friendly hand on his back, him breathlessly smiling back up at her. While he walked back to his seat, she returned to the front. "I feel introductions are needed," she said over the classes dimming laughter, "This, my dear Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs…" She paused dramatically. "Is Sir Tony the Boney."

They were hooked. Finally being introduced to the class mascot, not a sliver of doubt was held by any third year that Professor Cartwell's class wasn't at all going to be dull. From the light in their eyes, she glowed, knowing well enough her work was cut out for her, but it was a work to be enjoyed fully.

The rest of the class consisted of her descriptions of what educational plots Sir Tony would be used for, whether pulled apart or dissected into pieces. When lunch arrived and class ended, the students buzzed out cheerily, waving goodbye to who they had labeled Favorite Teacher #1.

"See you tomorrow, Professor Cartwell!"

"Bye Sir Tony!"

"Alright all, have a good day," she called back for both herself and Tony. Mona hummed to herself while placing Tony back in the cupboard, quite glad with herself that her random had turned out so well. Yet, even halfway through the work day, she still had her demons to conquer. What with Snape the Spy scrounging the halls under everyone's nose, Mona had yet to collect any evidence of her claim.

"Lunch will have to wait," she convinced herself, sitting back at her desk, searching for a clean piece of parchment and quill. It took her a moment, but in due time she had quill set to paper, writing back to her brother.

_ Mason-_

_ The note sent before was very unclear. I would like to be sure who you were specifically mentioning. I know owls can be easily intercepted, so –_

Mona was stopped abruptly when a loud clacking and a rough grunt broke through her thoughts. Her gaze jumping upward, she relaxed when she saw it was only Professor Moody.

"Do you usually sneak up on people or do you want me to jump every time you show up?" Mona said lightly.

"Part of being an Auror for so long, Miss Cartwell," he answered, tottering over to her desk. "May I sit with you?"

She nodded. "Sure, of course." Standing up to move his chair, he waved her back as he flicked his wand. The chair adjusted for him while his magical eye spiraled around the classroom. With an abrupt plop he landed in the chair as after its quick exploration, his magical eye rested on Mona.

"Ah, well," she hesitated, sitting back down, "What can I help you with?"

"Albus was offering some advice at breakfast this morning about classes. He said last year you and the werewolf did a double class which he said worked well."

Mona's lips pursed rigidly. "His name is Lupin, not werewolf, first off. But, yes, the lesson was quite a hit. What were you planning?"

Moody shrugged, fidgeting for a moment with his wooden leg. "Nothing particular. I thought if we could put our heads together on the topic, I'd like to try the idea again."

"That sounds great. Maybe in a week or two after everyone's settled in we should definitely do that," Mona agreed. She didn't know what to say after that… Catch any Dark Wizards lately? Thought at all of getting a higher tech prosthetic? All these thoughts felt insensitive and rude to her. What else could you say to an Auror though? Glancing to the side away from his magical eye Mona caught sight of her kettle.

"Would you like some tea?" she partly blurted in the awkward pause.

Moody shook his head. "I'll have to pass. I just wanted to clear up that bit of business before I forgot." His thick hands grabbed at his chair's arms and he lifted himself up, tossing his long hair out of his face. "Plan to grab some lunch?" he asked.

"No, I have a letter to write actually," she smiled apologetically.

"Well, don't be skipping out on too many meals, Miss Cartwell. You're thin enough as it is; you need to get some meat on your bones." A strange smile quivered on the corners of his lips just before he began heading towards the door.

Mona was surprised by his word choice for a moment, recoiling from the phrase without thought. "Well," she stumbled, "It won't be a daily thing." She reasoned to herself that it was coincidence that Moody used the same phrase as some person she knew well had used to say. There was no way of Moody to know about him. Not a chance.

The moment the resounding clacking of Moody's wooden leg couldn't be heard, Mona faltered to write her letter. Her eyes stuck to Mason's name like glue, as if she could truly find the spy in the Wizarding School by looking hard into her brother's name.

Once again, Mona reasoned herself to the logic she could confirm. The spy had to be Snape. Snape was always the culprit, proven through the many vile acts she had witnessed and had been part of. There was no doubt in her eye.

...

"Professor?" She heard him call. Minerva had told her early at breakfast that Snape had been looking for her. She had tried avoiding him at all cost, trying to follow Remus' words…He's not worth it, Mona. He's not worth getting angry at. Now it seemed she couldn't hold him off any longer. It had been three days since Remus had left and her anger towards Snape was still just as raw.

"Professor Cartwell," he started again when she didn't immediately stop in midstride. Seeing no escape, Mona turned her head and faced the Potions Master.

"I'm sorry. I was heading to the Owlery. What is it?" It was difficult being polite to him, thoughts of Remus' unfair treatment running through her mind. He's not worth it, she reminded herself, feeling her patience running thin.

"I spoke to Madame Pomfrey and she suggested a few medicinal potions to assist with the furthering of your healing. If you have a moment-"

"I feel just peachy Professor; you don't need to go to the trouble. If you'll excuse me." Just as she thought her bullet was dodged, it came back to bite her.

"Is something wrong, Miss Cartwell?"

She stopped again, but this time was much slower to turn and face him. Putting on a surprised face, she asked, "Wrong? I just told you I feel fine."

"You seem a bit…out of character." He waved a hand forward to motion for them to walk together. Mona tensed, but obliged. She saw now that the walk to her chambers was going to be a long one. "Let me guess," Snape began, "Lupin's resignation has you coiled tight."

Her teeth gritted silently, finding it wiser to grind her molars then explode on the Potions Master. Remus' reverberating words became a low buzz in the back of her head, leaving room for Snape's to make her blood curdle.

"He made the right decision, Miss Cartwell."

"It was one mistake," she defended.

"Endangering the lives of students isn't a 'one mistake' ordeal. By luck no one was hurt. I wonder…why do you defend him? Lupin brought this all upon himself, what is there to defend?" Her fingernails bit into the inside of her palm then relaxed, leaving half moons there. Mona knew how much Snape enjoyed taunting people; he did it so obviously, dodging between selected words and phrases to make any person feel like the lesser. She wouldn't stand for this, though, relying on her decision before that if Snape pushed her she would push back twofold.

Mona stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms across her chest. "Are you trying to comfort me or change my opinion on Remus, because on either end you're doing a terrible job. Remus is my friend, and I know that it was unfair to him that he was forced to leave."

He raised his eyebrows, stopping in front of her. "I was merely conveying that people like him ought not to put themselves in such delicate atmospheres. I recognize your opinion isn't easily shifted, but I disagree. Lupin got what he deserved."

Her face flushed. He pushed her, she felt his words make her teeter. But like Snape said, she wasn't easily shifted.

Bringing a tight smile on her lips, she said, "Fine. You'd like an argument? Then I suggest," her eyes flitted to the door near them, "we make it private." As she passed him to reach the door, his eyes gave off the most malicious glint.

The door opened easily at her touch, swinging gently open to bring light to the dingy and abandoned classroom. The house-elves didn't leave a bit of dust to linger, but from the way everything sat so silently it was apparent no one had entered the room for a long time. Boxes of aged textbooks were stacked against the walls, along with a few old portraits which were either too provocative or had lost members of the painting. In the far corner, leaning against the wall was a tall drape hung over what seemed to be a glass pane, maybe a mirror. Holding the door for him, the tension reverberated dangerously as he passed through the door, leaving Mona to close it.

A swish of the wand brought light to the room in a short moment, then a muffling charm on the door for good measure. No one else needed to hear what she had been plotting to say to this vile, wretched man.

"What right do you think you have to judge whether Lupin made the right decision?" Mona said in a flourish, her scowl boring after Snape. "Think you're the Headmaster or something?"

Standing there with such a wry look, Snape scoffed. "My you are testy. Is it my _opinion_ that has upset you?" he strained, advancing closer. His patronizing height over her was as intimidating as his pointed words. "I don't know how work at St. Mungo's was conducted, but here sharing an opinion isn't an action to be looked down upon. Is this why you've been avoiding me all week?"

She felt shaken by his uncanny awareness. What business did he have watching her? Suddenly caught up in her fury, she passed Snape to distance herself from his dark shadow. "It's your actions not your opinions," she scolded, her voice rising, "You told your House that Remus is a werewolf. If it wasn't for your damn actions Remus would still be here!"

He knew he should have expected this, predicted such an explosion from this fiery woman, but the raw spite and hurt she unfurled made a twang of guilt resonate unpleasantly in the general area of his chest. Short-lived though it was Snape chose his words with a teaspoon of sympathy for her. Mona had every right to be angry with him for ridding the castle of that degenerate, her friend. Then again, Remus could be blamed partially for many of Severus' own losses, making him a measure less than merciless to her defense.

After a stunned pause, Snape poised himself again, his steely eyes unyielding from hers. "I would no longer stand to have the lives of my students threatened every day by simply stepping into that menace's classroom. How I acted was for the school's safety, and like I mentioned before, people like Lupin should not place themselves in such atmospheres."

"You talk of Lupin like he isn't a walking, talking, human being! How dare you! He's a person not a menace!"

"Miss Cartwell, a werewolf and a person are two opposite beings; foils in fact," Snape responded quite coolly compared to the woman across him. "What good can come from someone like him? He's a beast among civilized."

Her pulse thundered while her mind stormed with one persuasive thought: To put this blighter in his place. Every harsh word he had uttered against Remus rebounded straight to her heart. Her hands clenching at her side and her wand hot in her pocket, it took a plentiful amount of restraint to not set his trousers on fire. Or whatever came to her wand's point first.

"Not all beasts have teeth and claws," Mona retaliated, composing herself so to make her wit come to a fine tip. "Beasts like you have yellow bellies and forked tongues." The power and insult of her words made his sneer somersault in what she could only describe to be relentless wrath, bared teeth and all.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me right." Standing squarely, she took a tedious step closer to him, almost as a warning to say she had heard enough. "Why can't you just realize that Remus isn't as bad as you make him out to be? He's just a good person placed in a bad situation. He can't control whether he has lycanthropy or not."

Seething in the now quiet classroom, Snape bent his brow toward her. Now the sympathy from before had evaporated leaving a boiling pot of resentment. However the frothing anger teeming underneath his skin, he moved closer, forcing her to lean into the wall. Snape sneered when he caught a look of disquiet from his threatening presence so close to her.

"You fight a good argument Miss Cartwell. But like most of your disagreements your facts are flawed." His sneer deepened into a snarl, his arms crossing across his chest. "I would believe that a competent woman like yourself could comprehend that the underdog in the situation is a low life mongrel. Werewolves are atrocious creatures that deserve neither thought nor care from anyone lower than a rat. They show for nothing."

She struck him. Pulling her hand back, she slapped the pale of his cheek with as much force as she could muster. With one last spit of poison, he had set her so on fire she absolutely could not stand for such venomous words.

Snape stumbled backward, landing his backside on a desk. This he definitely had not foresaw. A cool hand rose to hold his stinging cheek, his black eyes blazing.

"You struck me!"

"Yes, because I've heard enough!" she demanded in a threatening voice, her wand out by her side. "Before you go and say something that you will duly regret let me inform you. My sister is a victim of lycanthropy. She was bitten when she was nine. A little girl not old enough to understand that she was a monster like you suggest!" Mona paused, her eyes beginning to glisten unwillingly. "People like you are the cause of all the hate and discrimination her life has been filled with." She swallowed the tears that wanted nothing more than to spill over her distraught face, leaving only a slight quiver in her accusations. "And all you can do is complain about a good slap? Compared to her life? How heartless can you be Severus Snape?"

Now this was beside Snape. He might as well have tried stealing an egg from a mother griffin's nest. The guilt felt before knotted his neglected heart miserably. Her sister? His face went blank, abashed.

Mona scoffed at his silence. "Don't tell me you feel sorry? You meant everything you said, I know." She turned from him, clearing her face of any a tear then digging into her pocket. Snape swallowed hard, standing up, bringing his hand back to his side. This was beyond what Snape had thought would happen. His words had unknowingly taken on a double meaning, and he felt the sudden need to mend what had broke.

"Mona-"

"No!" she said roughly, turning back to him. A neatly folded parchment was held between her hands. "I don't want to hear your apologies. You've said plenty already." Her eyes averted, fingers working nimbly to unfold the letter. "You remember my friend I told you about, Francis? I was just about to owl him this letter." Mona smoothed out the letter, scanning for the sentence she wanted. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to rewrite it, though."

She began to read: "It seems, Francis, that the school's Potions Master has had a sudden change of heart. I've been told that for an entire day he did not leave my side while I was unconscious. I like to believe that it was guilt that drove him, but the school matron prefers to think him being affectionate."

Mona stopped there. Her eyes met his black ones. They hovered over her regretfully until he pulled away to stare at the floor. She glared back at him.

"Affection my arse." The parchment tore between her hands into halves then quarters. In a rush the pieces fell to the floor, filling the space between the professors. A silence fell coldly over the entire room for a few elongated seconds.

"I'd prefer to part ways here, Professor Snape. I hope your summer holiday is well," Professor Cartwell disclosed sharply. When Snape kept his silence she moved for the door.

"Good day, Professor Snape."


End file.
